


All Hail the King

by Mando_Cyare



Series: Not So Wretched Fate [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Pet Names, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Reunions, Rough Sex, Throne Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28162230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mando_Cyare/pseuds/Mando_Cyare
Summary: SPOILERS FOR THE MANDALORIAN, CHAPTER 16!Boba Fett told the Mandalorian that sometimes fate steps in to rescue the wretched.  After his debt to the Mandalorian is paid, Fett receives a visit from the one who changed his own wretched fate.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Original Female Character(s), Boba Fett/Reader
Series: Not So Wretched Fate [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2069355
Comments: 40
Kudos: 294





	All Hail the King

**Author's Note:**

> Shameless Fett smut to make me feel better after the end of Chapter 16. Based off the end credits scene.

You couldn’t help but stare. 

Memory flooded you; the way he had sat in your infirmary years ago, making even your simple metal desk-chair into a throne with the way he sat. Even during healing, he had exuded confidence and authority.

Now, he sat upon a real throne. He’d regained his armor, the green and red standing out against the black of his robes. You remembered those robes, the ones you had given him when he said that he was leaving. He looked every inch a king, terrifying and beautiful in the same breath.

And, for that one night, he had been yours.

His helmeted head cocked slightly, the wide spread of his legs and relaxed posture making it impossible to look away. “Glad to see me, princess?”

That rough, rolling baritone hadn’t changed a bit, and a shiver rolled down your spine to hear it directed at you again. You couldn’t help it, a shy smile curving your lips and color rising to your cheeks. “Glad to see you alive,” you answered.

He chuckled, and you could just imagine the smirk pulling at his lips, the way his eyes crinkled slightly. He held out a gloved hand, curling two fingers towards himself, beckoning you. “Come here.” His already low voice had gone gravely, a growling rasp through his helmet’s vocoder.

You were already moving towards the stairs to the side, his helmet turning as he watched you. Your habit of staying out of arm’s reach seemed to have abandoned you, and you stepped between his spread knees with your heart racing, hammering against your ribs.

Boba reached out, leaning forward enough to curl his hand firmly around your waist. You leaned into the touch, and he chuckled again before yanking you forward. You fell against his chest with a yelp, his hands gathering the backs of your thighs and pulling you in to straddle his lap. Sitting up, you braced one hand against the chest of his armor, the other lifting hesitantly towards his helmet.

As your fingers traced the concave of his cheek, Boba leaned the helmet into your touch, his hands flexing on your hips. The heat in your cheeks had spread throughout your body, and you sucked in a quiet breath at the feeling of slick gathering between your legs. You had thought him lost to you, this powerful, dangerous man who had also treated you with care. And yet here he was, as if not a day had passed, pulling you into his lap as he sat atop his new throne.

A gloved hand lifted to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. “As beautiful as the day I left,” he murmured, something heavier edging his tone. He hummed in approval as you turned to nuzzle into his hand, kissing the worn leather of his palm. “I missed you, _mesh’la_.”

That admission was worth every day you’d been apart. Boba Fett was not a man with friends. He had allies and acquaintances. But _you_ … you he had missed. You bowed your head, bumping your forehead against his helmet as you laid a gentle kiss on the visor.

“I missed you, too,” you breathed.

Then he let go of you, hands lifting to release the seal on his helmet and pull it away, setting it to the side on the arm of his throne. You took a moment to admire him. He hadn’t changed much in the past few years, his face still scarred and weathered. It was still the same handsome face that had entranced you, despite the danger.

It was Boba’s turn to lean into your touch as you traced a finger along his cheekbone, following the scar down to his mouth. He caught your hand in his, laying kisses over your palm and fingertips. Then one of his hands tangled in your hair, yanking you down into a heated kiss, licking hungrily into your mouth.

You gasped against him, meeting his tongue with yours as you draped your arms over his broad shoulders. His hands stroked up and down your back, one gathering your skirt into a fist to reach beneath, cupping your ass and squeezing. You groaned against him, rocking down against the growing hardness in his lap.

Boba broke the kiss with a curse, lifting one gloved hand to your lips. “Bite,” he ordered. You caught the leather between your teeth, and he pulled his hand free. Then it dipped below your skirt, slipping into your underwear, your whole body rocking forwards as his rough fingers pressed through your slick folds.

“This wet for an old man, princess?” he purred, stroking lazy circles around your clit.

The bastard was only _just_ over a decade older than you, but he had never let you forget it. And he had always had this power over you. Just a few suggestive words in that low, rumbling voice of his had you soaking. And when he touched you, with the same hands you knew to be so deadly, your blood sang.

You ground down against his hand, cupping the back of his neck and pressing your brow to his. “Please, Boba.” It had been so long. You had waited for him, clinging to the desperate hope that he might someday return to you, even for just a night.

“Please _what_?” he murmured. He dipped a single finger into your heat, smirking when you gasped, trying to push down for more friction. “Tell me what you need, little one.”

One of your hands dropped, undoing the clasp of the sash at your waist, loosening it enough to pull the front of your dress open, exposing your breasts and his hand between your legs. Then you reached for him, cupping him through his clothes and squeezing.

“This,” you breathed. “I need you to fuck me.”

The groan that left him was broken and rough, and then he was undoing his belt, pulling the robes aside to free his cock from his trousers. Your underwear dug briefly into your thighs as he ripped the flimsy garment from you, letting the remains drop somewhere to the side.

He pulled you up against his cock, sliding the underside across your folds, catching you when you slumped forward with a groan. His own ragged noise of pleasure mingled with yours, his hips lifting under you as he ground you against him. “I’ve missed this, _mesh’la_ ,” he rasped, helping you come up on your knees while using his other hand to angle himself. “C’mon, show me how much you need it.”

With the blunt head of his cock pressing against your entrance, you rocked against him, breath hitching as the head slipped inside. Your thighs went tight and quivering at the stretch, and you breathed out a curse. It had been a long time, and it wasn’t like there had been anyone after him.

“Fuck, Boba…” You started to work him into you with slow, shallow thrusts, hands braced on his shoulders. The sudden stretch stung, but you still clenched down around his girth greedily, his name falling from your lips again like a prayer.

Boba’s head fell back on his shoulders as he groaned, hands returning to your hips. He had dreamed about you, dreamed of bringing you with him in his search. But it had been too dangerous, and he would have rather had his last memories of you be pleasant than to have you die in his arms. Or, worse still, to have died himself and left you alone.

But he hadn’t died. There was still danger, of course. There always would be with him. But you had come looking for him, left the safety of your home of your own free will. All for him.

Looking up again, his eyes met yours, and he began rocking your hips, working into you inch by inch. “So good for me, _mesh’la_ ,” he praised, drinking in your little gasping sighs. “So tight and wet…” He bucked up, savoring the way your eyes went wide and your lips parted with a wonton moan. “You love it when I fill you up like this, don’t you?”

“Yes—fuck!” Your voice had gone high and breathy, hands anchored on his shoulders for stability. “Please, give me everything.” Your eyes opened, speared by his dark gaze. “Don’t be gentle with me, Boba.” You were using the last of your focus for this. “Remind me who I belong to…”

Your words shredded the last of his restraint, and Boba yanked your hips down, thrusting up and burying himself inside you. Your cry as he bottomed out was nearly musical to his ear, your body sagging forward against him. He held you there for a moment, nuzzling kisses into your neck as if savoring the feeling of having you again.

Nudging into his cowl, you sucked at the side of his throat, tasting the salt of his sweat and clenching down around his girth. His powerful body shuddered beneath you. That alone was enough to coax more of your wetness; this powerful, deadly man, reduced to a broken groan with just a roll of your hips… The power of that was heady.

With a parting nip to your shoulder, Boba leaned back, helping you straighten as he began to move, rocking up into your wet heat. The sight of his cock, shining with your slick, spreading you open as your thighs trembled was almost more than he could bear. He _had_ missed this, had missed your touch, the way you went soft and pliant in his hold.

“Not sure I need to,” he growled, falling into a harsh rhythm as he held you in place. “You seem to remember _exactly_ who you belong to, little one. Just as—just as hot and slick as I remember…”

You were quickly losing your capacity for words, drowning in the feel of him. All you could do was whimper, mouthing wetly at his throat. Abruptly, he pulled you down and began to roll your hips, grinding you into his pelvis. Heat jolted through you, and you bit down on his skin.

“Yes, I remember exactly how to take you apart, _cyar’ika_.” He continued to rock you into him, muttering praises and curses in your ear. You were beginning to shake, thighs tensing against his. “Are you close? You gonna come like this?” 

He mouthed at your neck, the scrape and tug of his teeth making you shudder. “Come on, princess, I know you can.” He pushed a hand between your bodies, rough fingertips finding your clit. Your body jolted at the touch, pussy clenching around him. He started to thrust again, working your clit in tight, firm circles. “That’s what you needed, yeah? Just a little push to come all over my cock…”

Your breathing stuttered, going rapid and shallow as the heat welled up within you, twisting tighter and tighter before you were falling apart around him. Color burst behind your closed lids, a shaky little cry muffled into Boba’s neck. You bit down hard as your body shook, clenching and fluttering deliciously around his girth.

“ _There_ you go, _mesh’la_ ,” he growled, fucking you through the aftershocks until you were slumped boneless against his chest. “Such a good girl.” One of his hands was stroking your hair, his mouth at your neck. “Can you take a little more for me?”

You shivered, wrapping your arms tight around his shoulders. “Inside,” you whimpered, “please finish inside. I wanna feel you… Boba, _please_.”

His chuckle was dark, his grip on your hips possessive. “That’s my girl.” When he started again, there was no trace of gentleness, the last threads of his careful restraint snapping. It was all you could do to hold onto him, groaning brokenly as he fucked into you, chasing his own release.

As heat coiled tight at the base of his spine, Boba kept his face buried in your shoulder, biting down hard and sucking a mark into your flesh. Your scent surrounded him, sweet and musky and painfully familiar. It had been a mistake to leave you, to go so long without your touch.

But you were his again, and it was that thought that finally pushed him over the edge, growling his completion into your sweat-slick skin as he held you down hard against his jerking hips. 

You shuddered and hummed in satisfaction at the wet surge of heat within you. Maker, you had missed this. Missed the feeling of being well fucked and content, totally possessed by Boba Fett. As his shaking stopped and his breathing slowed, you slowly sat up, smiling down at him.

“You’re going to be thinking about this whenever you sit here, aren’t you?” you murmured, voice rough.

Boba lifted a hand to stroke your cheek. “Every day, _cyare_. Every day.”

**Author's Note:**

> I might make this into a series, who knows. Would anyone be interested?


End file.
